


As You Wish || Good Omens/Princess Bride au

by AnironSidh



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Princess Bride (1987), crossover - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Bride Fusion, As you wish, Aziraphale as Buttercup, Bedtime Stories, Crossover, Crowley (Ashtoreth) reads him a story, Good Omens characters in the place of PB characters, Inspired By Tumblr, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Princess Bride AU, Sort Of, Story within a Story, Warlock is sick, You Know Who, and someone overhears, angel - Freeform, as you wish angel means i love you, inspired by anotherwellkeptsecret on tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnironSidh/pseuds/AnironSidh
Summary: Warlock is sick and Nanny Ashtoreth reads him a story of romance and swordfights, perhaps inspired by a certain angel she knows.In which Aziraphale is Buttercup and in love with the handsome Crowley, a farm boy. When he is reported dead, killed by the Dread Pirate Nutter, Aziraphale falls into despair and eventually agrees to marry the devious Prince Gabriel. He is kidnapped by a con artist, Beelzebub, and their two henchmen in order to start a war. Crowley, who survived his rumored attack, rescues him from the trio. They must now free Aziraphale from Gabriel's clutches if they wish to have a new life with each other.Inspired by anotherwellkeptsecret on tumblr (penumbra on ao3)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling, Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 72





	1. As You Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penumbra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbra/gifts).



“Read me a story, Nanny,” Warlock begged as he burrowed further into his blankets. His excited tone was somewhat muddled by his cold, but he still managed it. Ashtoreth sighed, though she smiled, as she sat down beside the child’s bed. 

“What kind of story, my little hellspawn?”

Warlock paused for a moment to think about it, then shrugged. “Somethin’ fun, with fightin’ and swords an’ stuff. Nothin’ gushy.” She smiled, discreetly miracling up a book from her room. It was definitely old and well-read, the title beginning to rub off. “What’s that?”

She tucked the blanket around him and then replied, “Just a little story I thought you would like. It’s like a fairytale.”

“Those aren’t excitin’, though,” Warlock whined. “I want fun.”

“I haven’t even told you what’s in it,” she said with a smirk. “There are sword fights in here, and revenge, and kidnapping. All sorts of fun things, and just a little bit of romance. You’ll be asleep by then, I think.”

Warlock pouted, shrugged, and burrowed further into his blankets. 

“ _ Aziraphale grew up on a small farm in the country of Eden _ ,” she began. 

“That’s a funny name,” Warlock said. Ashtoreth glared, though there was little ire behind it, and Warlock burrowed even further into his blankets. 

“ _ His favorite pastimes were reading his many books and tormenting the farm boy that worked there. His name was Crowley, though he never called him that. Nothing gave Aziraphale as much pleasure as ordering him around. _ ”

-

Aziraphale looked up at the sound of footsteps outside. He smiled to himself, putting the book he’d been reading back on his desk. 

“Farm boy,” he chirped. “Could you clean my favorite cocoa mug? I want it to sparkle. I’d like some more cocoa as well, please.”

Said mug was sitting beside his book on the table. Aziraphale watched with a badly hidden smile as he watched Crowley stare at him for a moment before pushing his curtain of red hair aside and walking forwards to grab the mug. 

Crowley paused on his way up, right at Aziraphale’s eye-level. “As you wish, angel,” he murmured. Aziraphale found he was unable to breathe until Crowley had sauntered out to fetch the water needed for washing the cup. 

His heart kept beating faster than it should’ve, even long after the now clean and refilled cup of cocoa was returned to him. It was still going when he laid down in bed that night. Aziraphale was all too aware of Crowley in his room next door, could hear him moving around. 

It didn’t get any better the next day. 

“Farm boy,” Aziraphale said, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking. “Fetch that pitcher for me.”

Crowley had to reach over him to get to the pitcher, bringing him far too close for comfort. “As you wish, angel.” Aziraphale gulped as the pitcher was handed to him, Crowley grinning. The farm boy stepped slightly back, though he was still far too close. Aziraphale’s hands shook as he turned to put the pitcher down onto his desk. 

That day, Aziraphale was amazed to discover that when Crowley was saying “As you wish,” what he meant was “I love you.”

Even more amazing was the day he realized he loved Crowley back. 

The sun was just beginning to set when Aziraphale crept out of his room. His footsteps could barely be heard over the sound of wood being chopped. He turned the corner to find Crowley piling up the now chopped wood, panting. 

“It’s going to be dark soon, dear,” Aziraphale murmured as he stepped closer. 

Crowley whipped around, relaxing when he realized who had called his name. “Oh, yeah. ‘S why I’m out here. Need firewood for the night,” he replied in a flood of words. “I’ll be alright, angel. Go back inside.”

Aziraphale sat down on a bench instead. Crowley glared at him as he pulled a book out of his pocket and began to flip through the pages. 

“You shouldn’t be all alone out here,” Aziraphale hummed, hoping his voice was steadier than he thought it was. He heard rather than saw Crowley move to walk towards him, stop, huff angrily, and turn back around to resume his chore. Aziraphale waited until the sound of chopping wood filled the air to look up over the edge of his book. 

Every time Aziraphale looked away to cool his burning blush Crowley glanced over his shoulder, smiling, before he turned back. This little game went on until the sun finally began to sink below the horizon and Crowley tossed his axe down. Aziraphale stood, tucked his book back into his pocket, and began walking back to the house. 

He turned his head to say, “Would you come and see me later? I’d just like to clean up first.”

“As you wish, angel,” Crowley murmured impossibly softly.

It took about an hour for the farm boy to knock on the door. In that time Aziraphale stoked up the fire, added more wood at least four times, brewed a pot of tea and paced across his floor over and over. He had just put the tea pot down, thankfully, when the knock on the door came. Aziraphale froze for a moment then mustered up enough nerve to cross the room. 

Crowley was standing on the other side of the door, his hand raised as if to knock again. He looked almost equally as nervous underneath his cool exterior.

“Hello, angel,” he whispered. 

Aziraphale stood back, forcing his hands to steady. “Come on in, then,” he said. “I-I’ve made tea, if you’d like.”

A silence fell over the small room while Aziraphale fiddled with the two cups of tea. Crowley accepted his with a smile that held a new sort of warmth. The two of them sat in the two armchairs by the fire, a feeling of comfort surrounding them. 

“Angel…” Crowley began, setting his cup down. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Aziraphale put his cup down, beginning to play with the edge of his shirt. “I hope you don’t think it inappropriate o-or presumptuous of me, dear. I-I’ve been thinking, and… er… could we… oh, bother.”

“As you wish, angel,” Crowley murmured as he moved to kneel in front of Aziraphale, reaching out to hold the others’ hands in his. “That’s what I’ve been saying this entire time. You’re clever, haven’t you figured out what I’m really saying?”

_ As you wish, angel…. _ Aziraphale’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. “You’ve been saying you love me,” he murmured. “And I never knew it.”

“You know now,” Crowley said, smiling once more, and leaned up just enough to be only a few inches away. The firelight flickered off of him, lighting his red hair like a brand of fire about his head. 

Aziraphale reached out a shaking hand to hold Crowley’s cheek. “May I kiss you, dear?”

Crowley let out a barely audible nervous laugh, nodding. Aziraphale finally smiled as he guided the farm boy up towards him and leaned the rest of the distance. 

Just before their lips met Crowley grinned and whispered, “As you wish, angel.” Aziraphale laughed into the kiss, his free arm reaching to drag Crowley closer. None of his books had ever mentioned kissing feeling like flying, but in that moment he felt as if he must have grown wings, as if they were flying among the stars Crowley had always loved. As if-

-

Warlock scrunched his face up. “Is this a kissing book? You said there’d be  _ excitin’ _ things, Nanny.”

“Keep your shirt on, my little hellspawn,” she retorted. “It gets good after this, I promise.”

The boy burrowed back into his blankets. She glared at him, really no feeling behind it, and started reading again.

-

-there was no one else on Earth but them. Aziraphale sighed as they parted, leaning back in for another quick kiss or two. Crowley laughed softly with an almost dazed look in his eyes. 

They eventually retired to bed and for the first time in so long, Aziraphale didn’t sleep alone. He wasn’t alone for quite some time. 

Some time later, unfortunately, Crowley left the farm. He had no money for marriage, being a poor farm hand, and so left for the sea to seek his fortune. He packed his few belongings and a few things of Aziraphale’s to remember him by, leaving him with nothing but a kiss and memories until he would return. 

-

“Why’d you stop?” Warlock whined. Nanny Astoreth stood up, placing the book on the bedside table. 

She tucked him in, rearranging his blankets. “I thought you didn’t like it much. Too much kissing for such a young boy, I suppose.”

He shook his head vigorously and grabbed up at her arms to shake them. “No. Keep reading, Nanny. I promise I’ll behave, please!”

“Alright,” she replied. “I’ll just fetch you a new cup of tea, dear, and a little snack.”

“One of Brother Francis’s cookies?” He cheered when she nodded, masking the scuffling sound on the other side of the door and the sound of someone racing down the hall. Warlock settled into bed and waited as patiently as any boy could. He had to find out what happened next, after all. 

[post here](https://anotherwellkeptsecret.tumblr.com/post/188963446571/any-more-ideas-about-that-princess-bride-au-im) [here's an earlier one](https://anotherwellkeptsecret.tumblr.com/post/188929608824/hey-is-your-ask-title-as-you-wish-from-the)


	2. The Trio Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale receives terrible news, gets engaged, gets kidnapped, and Warlock really wants to hear about a sword fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brought to you by quarantine, a long awaited second chapter.

Warlock, still buried in blankets, busied himself with the cookie in his hands while his nanny settled herself in the chair. She arranged herself in the chair and picked the book up from its spot on the bedside table. Warlock waited for about a minute before he began kicking at the blankets, unable to wait a second longer. 

“ _ Nanny _ ,” he whined. “Read the story.”

She raised an eyebrow at him even as she opened the book. “Hold on a minute. You have to give me time to open the book, dear.”

Warlock burrowed into his blankets, feigning seriousness. “Okay.”

_ Crowley never did reach his destination. His ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who never left any captives alive. When Aziraphale received the news that Crowley had been murdered… _

-

Aziraphale had just closed the stable door when he heard footsteps running down the road to his farm. He turned around with a smile, expecting to see Crowley running back to his arms, laden with enough riches to allow them to finally marry. 

Instead of Crowley there was a young boy running through the gates, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hands. He recognized the boy from the village, a kind lad who always asked for stories. The boy ran up to him and held out the message. 

“For you, sir,” he panted. “I’m real sorry about this.”

Aziraphale paused, the envelope half-open. “About what?”

The boy’s face fell. “Well, sir, um… It’s Mister Crowley’s ship, sir,” he said, hesitating for a second, long enough for Aziraphale’s heart to plummet. “It was attacked. By the Dread Pirate Roberts, sir.”

Opening the message confirmed the boy’s words. Aziraphale held himself together until the boy had disappeared around the corner, running into his room and collapsing onto his bed. He curled himself around the pillow on the far side of the bed, the side where Crowley had slept before he left. Aziraphale imagined he could almost feel Crowley behind him. The feeling only made him sob harder. 

He stayed like that for days, refusing to sleep or eat. It felt as if there could be no going on now. How could there be? It had been so long since he had been truly alone last, not since his parents passed away many years ago. 

“I will never love again,” he murmured one day, staring at the empty pillow. “I have lost everything dear to me. There can be no replacing my love.”

-

A few years later, in Eden’s capital city, the main square was filled with people in such an amount that had not been seen in many years. They milled around excitedly, each and every citizen waiting for the announcement of Prince Gabriel’s spouse-to-be. Each and every one wondered about this person’s identity. 

The prince himself stood above his people, on a balcony watching over them. His aged parents stood behind looking rather proud. 

“My people... a month from now, our country will have its 500th anniversary. On that sundown, I shall marry someone who was once a commoner like yourselves.” He paused for a moment, savoring the people’s rapt attention. “But perhaps you will not find them common now. Would you like to meet them?”

He waited as the people roared their ‘yes’es to gesture to a staircase leading to the square just as a figure began to be visible. Aziraphale stepped forwards slowly, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to look over his new subjects. 

Even as the crowd, without any signal, knelt to their knees as one, his eyes remained dull. Crowley’s loss had taken every bit of joy he’d possesed before. Prince Gabriel could have any of his subjects as his spouse with the power he possessed, but it would not gain him Aziraphale’s love. 

“My people,” Gabrel called out, looking down. “The Prince Aziraphale!”

-

“Despite the love of his people and Gabriel’s assurances that he would eventually grow to love him,” she read, glancing up at Warlock to gauge his reaction. “His only joy came in his daily rides.”

“I rode a horse once, remember, Nanny?” the boy added. 

She nodded, holding up the book. “Of course, dear. Back to the book, yes?”

-

Aziraphale slowed down as he entered a clearing, the setting sun lending the place a golden glow. The quiet beauty almost eased some of the constant aching in his chest. Crowley had taken him somewhere like this, once, for a picnic when they’d been happy and in love and  _ safe _ together. He hopped down from the horse to take in the view.

“A word, szzir?” a voice, with a buzzing quality, spoke from behind him. He whipped around to see the speaker, a quite diminutive person in a ragged suit, a woman with her hair up wearing a long coat, and a man standing behind her in a roughened coat. “We are but poor, lost circus performers,” the first explained. “Izz there a village nearby, perhapzz?”

Aziraphale was suspicious, sure, but they looked harmless enough and his kinder side won over. “There’s nothing nearby, I’m afraid. Not for miles, this is the edge of Eden.”

“Wonderful,” they replied, nodding to the man who began walking towards Aziraphale. “Then there will be no one around to hear you  _ scream _ .”

“I’m sorry about this,” the man whispered as he simply  _ touched _ a nerve somewhere on his neck. Aziraphale didn’t even have the time to  _ think _ about screaming before he collapsed onto the ground in a rather inelegant heap. 

Unconscious, he was carried to a boat in the Eden channel. The woman led the horse to the moored boat and tied it to a post waiting there. The man, who’s name was Newton, set Aziraphale down rather gently in the boat and kept clear of the boss, Beelzebub. Neither he nor Anathema, the woman accompanying them,  _ liked _ their new boss. Money had been scare lately and revenge, the only thing Anathema wanted, was expensive.

-

“Why does she want revenge, Nanny?” Warlock asked, crumpling his nose. “Is that going to be one of the fights you promised?”

She shushed him with a smile. “Patience, dear. It’s just getting good now.”


End file.
